


Recovering a Life

by gracegil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Caregiver, Engaged, F/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert, fred weasley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracegil/pseuds/gracegil
Summary: WARNINGS: Trauma. Mentions of the battle of Hogwarts, but nothing violent.You had not seen your fiancé, Fred, in hours. Just as a masked Deatheater pins you against the wall, wandless, Fred steps between you, taking the forbidden curse. He survives the spell, but your old Fred is gone. As you and George care for him, you begin to wonder if you will ever get your fiancé back.Relationship: Fred Weasley\ You
Relationships: Fred Weasley/George Weasley, Fred Weasley/Reader, George Weasley/Reader
Kudos: 31





	Recovering a Life

You sprinted down the halls of Hogwarts, losing energy quickly as you dodged falling rubble. A curse ricocheted off the floor next to you and you blindly threw a protective spell behind you. You had not seen your fiancé, Fred, in hours. You had not seen any of the Weasley family in a long time, but you tried to push the panic down as you ran through the stone corridors. You slid around a corner and pulled yourself to a halt right before crashing into a masked Deatheater. A small scream escaped your lips as you wordlessly threw a protective charm in front of yourself. He knocked your wand out of your hands and you backed against the wall, bracing yourself against the forbidden curse that was soon to come. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and Fred’s smile popped into your mind. The way he looked when he was laughing at George after a successful prank. A body pressed hard against yours, stepping between you and the Deatheater and you opened your eyes in surprise. You could see the back of Fred’s body, his arms outstretched to cover you. 

“Don’t hurt her. Take me. Take me instead.” Fred says, his voice desperate. 

“No!” you yell as the Deatheater throws a spell at the two of you. Fred collapses in your arms, his wand clattering to the floor. Percy steps in front of you, disarming the Deatheater, but you can barely focus on anything but Fred. The sounds around you muffle as you roll Fred’s still body over on to his back. Your shaking hands fumble for his fist, feeling for a heartbeat. 

“Freddie, Freddie please. Please, Fred.” You plead with his unresponsive body as tears run down your cheeks. 

“(y\n)?” Percy drops to his knees next to his younger brother, his eyes flickering between Fred and you. You place your hands gently on Fred’s cheeks, begging him to stay with you. “We need to get him to Madame Pomfrey.” Percy mumbles and you obey numbly. You each place one of Fred’s arms over your shoulders and carry him down to the Great Hall in search of help. 

You can barely piece together a complete thought as panic shuts down all your senses. Your body is just going through the motions of getting him there, but all you can think about is Fred’s smile. Finally, you and Percy make it to the Great Hall and Arthur rushes over to take your place under Fred’s weight. 

“Oh my boy,” He says over and over again as he and Percy gently lay Fred on a palette. The room is filled with wounded students and teachers, but you don’t see George. You know Fred needs his twin here. 

“George?” You ask nobody in particular. 

“We haven’t seen him.” Bill shakes his head but his eyes don’t leave Fred’s face. Molly is preforming healing spells, but still he doesn’t move. 

“I have to find him.” You say and walk out the double doors, desperate for something you can do. Desperate to feel useful. You wipe your nose on your sleeve and start up the grand staircase, looking for George. 

“(Y\n)!” He yells your name from above and you stop, your eyes searching frantically for him. Then he appears, running down the stairs. He is smiling, and you can tell he is happy to see you. He throws his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Where’s Freddie?” He pushes back to hold you at arm’s length and his face falls the moment he notices the tears running down your face. “(y\n). What happened? Who is hurt?” George asks and you can hear panic in his voice with each question. 

“Fred.” Is all you can say. He grabs your hand and the two of you run down to the Great Hall. George drops to his knees by his brother’s side and you can hear his sobs over his twin. You stand back, feeling out of place as the family surrounds Fred’s cot. George takes Fred’s hand and pulls it up to his own face in disbelief and Fred breathes a moan of pain. Everyone around him gasps and you push through to drop next to him. 

“Fred? Freddie?” You repeat, barely daring to hope he is alive. Another groan escapes his lips and he moves his hand a little, trying to reach you. “It’s okay, It’s okay Fred. Don’t move. I’m right here, It’s okay.” You repeat again and again as tears flow down your cheeks. You look up and your eyes meet George’s and he offers you a hint of a smile. 

“We need to move him to Saint Mungo’s,” Arthur instructs and you step back to make room. Each of Fred’s brothers steps forward and gently place their hands under him, lifting Fred onto a cot. Even this small action beings forth tears and reluctant moans from Fred and your stomach knots at the horrible sounds. They manage to carry him through the fireplace and floo to the hospital. You follow right behind and everyone but George returns to Hogwarts quickly to check on the rest of the family. 

You watch as they rush down the hall with Fred’s still body, healers mumbling terms you barely understand. George collapses against the wall, his head in his hands. You can see his shoulders shaking with sobs, but you barely know how to help him. There is nothing you can say to comfort him right now. 

“Come here,” You pull him down into a chair and pull the wand out of your back pocket. The first one you grab is Fred’s, so you hand it to George and reach for your own. You gently guide it over his bloody, bruised arms, muttering healing spells as you go. 

“Thanks,” George breathes a sigh of relief as the cuts heal on his arms. A healer sees what you are doing and makes you sit in the chair next to George. The healer spends the next hour working over the two of you. First healing cuts, then wiping away dried blood. He gives both of you potions for pain and wraps the worst of your injuries in clean, white gauze. He whisks the rubble and dust out of your hair and gives George a t-shirt without holes in it. Finally, you and George settle in chairs in the waiting room, looking and feeling a little better than you did a few hours ago. After a few hours that feel like a lifetime, a healer approaches the two of you hesitantly. 

“First of all, he is alive.” The healer tells and you heave a sigh of relief. George puts his arm around you and pulls you close. “We have done everything we can, but forbidden curses take time to heal.” He says and a knot forms in your stomach. “Based on the way he is responding, we think he will probably have mental repercussions from this.” You feel George stiffen beside you and you grip his hand tightly, looking for any kind of stability. 

“Would you like to see him? Only for a second.” The healer asks and you and George stand at the same time. You silently follow the healer down the hall to a small, private wing. Your heart catches in your throat when you see Fred laying on an iron bed, his eyes shut tightly and his head thrashing from side to side like he is fighting an invisible battle. His whole body flinches in uncontrolled jerks and spasms. 

“Oh, Fred.” You breathe and your hand flies to your mouth at the sight. You stop halfway to his bed, but George walks on a few more steps, desperately wanting to help his twin. 

“What’s wrong with him?” He barely breathes the words as Fred continues to move on the bed. 

“This is what I meant by mental repercussions. That curse is meant to torture by targeting your nervous system. He will probably experience flashbacks and nightmares like this for a while. And we aren’t sure about his memory…” The healer says gently. 

“But-“ you start and your voice catches in your throat. “But not forever?” You manage. 

“We… Well, we don’t know. People usually don’t survive a curse like this and we don’t completely understand how magic changes from person to person. It could be that the wizard who conjured the spell was not strong and Mr. Weasley will wake from this soon. Or, self-sacrifice changes the way dark magic affects the body.” Here, he turns to George but you feel something break inside you when you realize the meaning of his words. “Do you know exactly what happened? So we can try to treat him better?”

“Oh, no.” You fall to your knees at the realization. “George, I’m so sorry.” You mumble and the twin walks over to you and pulls you to your feet. Tears blur your vision so much you can barely look at him. 

“What is it? (y\n), what happened?” George asks you. 

“It stepped in front of me. He took this for me. I’m so sorry,” George pulls you into an embrace and you sob into his shoulder. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, it is what he would have wanted.” George mutters into your ear and guides you back to the waiting room. The two of you were not very close until now, when the one person you both loved was facing something awful. 

“It isn’t your fault.” George says quietly to you again. “He chose to save you.” 

“He could still be here if I wasn’t.” You say bluntly, George’s words only hurting you more. 

“Stop.” George moves in front of you, forcing you to focus your attention on him. “Don’t say that. Fred loves you and you know he would do anything for you. He just proved that. Now he just needs our help to get better.” You are amazed at how put-together George is managing to be right now. You nod at him, showing you agree, as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walk into the waiting room. 

George gets up immediately and walks over to his parents, arms open. You follow a little more hesitantly, but Mrs. Weasley wraps you in an identical embrace while she asks about Fred. 

“We just saw him…” George starts and cuts his eyes at you. “He… Mum. He’s not great.” George buries his head against his father’s neck and you place a comforting arm on George’s shoulder. You cannot imagine how it must feel for him right now. 

“But he will get better. With time.” You add, trying to sound hopeful. George tells them what the healers actually said, but leaves out the part about Fred stepping into the curse for you. 

Members of the Weasley family rotate in and out over the next few days. Everyone wants to be there for Fred, but everyone is still also working through the physical and emotional aftermath of the battle. A few days later, you return to the hospital after eating dinner to see George in a whispered argument with his parents and a Healer. You hang back, still cautious not to butt in, but you hear George say your name. He catches your eye and motions you over with his head. You walk over nervously, and George explains what is happening. 

“They said Freddie can go home, but he needs someone to be with him all the time.” George says with a sigh. 

“We can do that,” You quickly nod to the healer, thinking that was who you were trying to convince. 

“See?” George says, but he looks at his parents, not at the healer. 

“George, we can’t ask her to step in full time.” Mr. Weasley tells his son. 

“I can care for him at the Burrow.” Mrs. Weasley adds and you look at George, confused. 

“The healer said it would be best for him to be in the place that is most familiar,” George motions vaguely to the Healer, who looks like he does not want to be caught in the middle of this family discussion. “That place is our apartment. With (y\n) there.” He insists and you realize what the argument is really about. Suddenly, you are endlessly grateful for George and the way he is advocating for your spot in Fred’s life. 

“I want to help, please.” You beg, desperate to show the family that you are not walking away from Fred, not now. 

“It would be best for him to be in a quiet place where he is familiar with everyone and everything there.” The healer starts hesitantly. 

“That is our apartment.” George nods to his mother. 

“But he grew up at the Burrow, it is home.” She says defensively. 

“But it is loud and there are always different people around. At our place, (y\n) and I can control who is there and what is going on at all times. Please, mum. I really think this is what he needs,” The three Weasleys share a long, silent look as if debating who knows what is best for Fred. You stay silent, thinking it is not your place to butt in on this decision. 

“Healer?” Mr. Weasley asks the man and you forgot he was still standing there. 

“I believe your son is right, Mr. Weasley,” The healer says apologetically. “If their apartment is the place he is most familiar with recently, along with these two,” he motions at you and George, “Then I believe it is the best place for him. I think it will help his memory, help him feel like himself again.” 

“Very well.” Mrs. Weasley concedes and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“When is he coming home?” You whisper to George as his parents pepper the poor healer with more questions. 

“Tomorrow. We need to get the apartment ready.” He says and the two of you leave together for Diagon Alley. You spend the rest of the day cleaning the apartment and setting up the two bedrooms. You push the two twin beds into one room, one for Fred and one for whoever is taking care of him, and George builds a queen size bed in the other. You are surprised at how well the two of you already work together, wordlessly communicating, but it was a good silence. 

You make sure there are clean sheets and towels and the fridge is fully stocked before the two of you return to the hospital. You and George volunteer for the night shift and his parents leave. 

The next morning, Arthur arrives in his car to help transport Fred home. The healer pushes Fred down the hall in a wheelchair and you see him awake for the first time. His eyes are empty, like all the usual sparkle is gone. The smile that usually plays on his lips has faded and he now wears a vacant, lost expression. You allow yourself only a half second to take this in before you force a smile on your face and greet him. 

“Hi, Fred, love.” You say as he nears. His eyes travel up to your face, but he shows no sign of recognition. 

“We can take it from here,” George replace the healer and pushes Fred down the hallway. “Right, Freddie. Let’s go home.” You and George share a quick, worried glance at Fred’s unusual silence, but you try to brush it off as you help him into the car waiting downstairs. Fred moans in reluctance as he climbs into the back seat, but you and George do your best to make it easy. 

It seems like hours before you are home and manage to help him into bed. Molly and Charlie are there to help too, which you are thankful for. Fred’s movements are unsteady and shaky, almost as if he has forgotten how to do simple tasks. It takes all of you to settle him in and get the house set up correctly now that Fred is unable to do so much. Finally, it is just the three of you alone in the apartment. 

You stand in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe, and take a deep, steadying breath. Today had been more exhausting than you could have imagined. You knew Fred wasn’t himself, but that fact has been magnified by bringing him into his own home. He was quiet, barely saying a word for hours, but his eyes tracked your’s and George’s every move across the room. It was like you could almost see the pretend wheels clicking in his mind, working through the scene around him. You look up when you hear George step into the hall. 

“He’s asleep.” He says simply, but with a deep sigh. 

“Good.” You say back. 

“He’s so…. Quiet.” George shakes his head in disbelief. “Want some tea?” He shakes off the thought and starts down the hall to the kitchen. George hands you a mug of steaming tea and the two of you sit across from each other at the kitchen table. “Let’s get some sleep.” George finally suggests. He collapses on the second bed in Fred’s room and you go to the other bedroom and fall asleep quickly, not even bothering to get under the covers. 

The next morning, George helps Fred out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom so he can shower. You watch from a distance, your heart breaking from the sight. You start lunch as George helps his brother. As you put their food on plates, you hear a crash in the bathroom and George calls you name softly. You run the few steps and knock quietly on the door. 

“George?” 

“(y\n), I’m sorry. Can you help us?” His voice is strained and you push open the bathroom door. The shower curtain has fallen into the floor and small droplets of water splash out onto the tile. Fred is sitting in the floor of the shower, his knees pulled under his chin, mumbling something you can’t quite make out. He still has suds in his hair but makes no move to rinse them out. George stands over his brother, his clothes soaking wet. 

You take all this in quickly and nod silently to George as you step into the room. You pull off the fuzzy sweater you had been wearing so you only have on a sports bra and a pair of shorts. You step over into the shower with Fred and reach for a cup that sits on the counter. You fill it with warm water and gently pour it over his head, washing the suds off his face. Fred looks up at you and your eyes meet for a moment, but you look away to repeat the action. 

Together, you and George help wash Fred’s body and get him out of the shower. You have never seen Fred’s naked body before this, so you try to keep him covered, to protect his dignity in case he remembers this later. You pull a t-shirt over his head and George helps him step in to a pair of sweatpants before guiding him back to the bedroom. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Fred only whispers this, but his voice breaks with emotion. You sit on the side of his bed and his eyes focus on you. 

“You were hurt, in a battle at Hogwarts. You’re a hero, don’t ever be sorry to ask for help when you need it.” You tell him gently and his eyes meet yours again. You hear George step into the room behind you and Fred’s eyes flicker to his brother before they travel back to your face. Fred just nods and looks away, as if lost in thought. You turn to George, who hands you a dry towel. 

“Thanks.” You say, standing up to take it from him. You walk over to where your trunk sits in the other room to change into dry clothes while George does the same. You bring the plates you had made into Fred’s room and the three of you eat lunch in silence. You and George swap off taking turns making sure Fred gets the potions he needs to help heal his mind and bring him rest. He is still so quiet, and their apartment feels strange and unnatural. 

“I’ll stay with him tonight. You get some sleep,” You tell George after dinner the next night. He just nods and you can tell how exhausted he must be if he doesn’t even put up a fight. The two of you wash up the dishes and you sit on the extra chair in Fred’s room and pull out a book. You read for a few hours before giving Fred another dose of the potion and settling in on the extra bed. 

The alarm clock gently buzzes next to you and you push yourself up to wake Fred and give him some potion. You poured the right amount out before sitting on the side of his bed and gently shaking him awake. 

“Freddie? Just take this potion for me.” You whisper and he rolls over to look at you, but there is panic in his eyes. 

“No, no, no!” He says and his hands fly up protectively. 

“Fred, calm down.” You say gently, but it doesn’t work. You can see him start to panic, still living in whatever dream you just work him from. 

“No, no! Get away from me. Don’t hurt her!” His words make no sense and before you can react, his hands slam into your shoulders, knocking you back off the bed. You fall back into the lamp with a crash and something hurts on your temple. George runs into the room and sits next to Fred, trying to calm him down. 

“Fred, it’s just (y\n). It’s (y\n) and George, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He repeats again and again until his twin calms down. Fred is breathing heavily and his hands are still pressed against George’s chest defensively, but he is no longer trying to push him away. His eyes flicker to you and you see horror on his face. 

“I’m sorry. What did I do? I’m so sorry.” He collapses against George’s chest, sobbing, and George looks down to where you still sit on the floor. 

“Shit, (y\n). Your head.” You put your hand up to your throbbing head and feel hot, oozing blood. 

“I’m fine.” You say and push yourself up off the floor. You pick up the pieces of the broken lamp and find a broom to sweep up the shards while George calms his brother. Finally, Fred falls back to sleep and you walk down to the bathroom to patch up your head. You hear George knock softly and open the door as you pull out a cloth and run it under the faucet. 

“Let me help,” he says, reaching for the white cloth in your hand. 

“I’m not here so you can take care of me, George.” You snap and back away to press the cloth to your head. An involuntary wince contorts your face. 

“We’re both here to care for Fred. And sometimes that looks like taking care of each other, too. Because he needs both of us, and we need each other too now.” He gently takes the rag from your hands and this time, you don’t protest. He pushes you to sit on the edge of the bathtub and gently cares for the cut on your head. 

“Healing spells aren’t my best, but I’ll try.” He smiles apologetically and barely touches his wand to your forehead. The pain goes away almost immediately, but you can tell by the look on his face that it did not heal completely. He rummages through the cabinet to find a bandage and puts it on your forehead, careful to not make it stick to your hair. 

“There, maybe that will help a little.” He says and backs away a step. 

“Thanks, George. Is he asleep?” You ask. 

“Yeah…. What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I just tried to wake him up to give him the potion and it was like he was still stuck in a dream. He pushed me off the bed and kept saying ‘no, no, no,’ over and over again.” Tears sting your eyes at the memory of the look on Fred’s face. It was like he didn’t know you at all. As the weeks pass, Fred changes very little. 

“We need to go get groceries.” George tells you at breakfast. You can tell he is putting out feelers for which one of you should do the shopping today. 

“Go ahead. I’ll stay here and clean this up.” You stand and turn on the faucet, filling the sink with hot water. 

“You sure? I can stay…” He suggests, but you shake your head no. You went last time, and he needs a break away from this flat. 

“No, go ahead. I have some things I need to work on anyway.” You both know you are lying, but he puts on his coat anyways and leaves you alone. You finish cleaning the kitchen and tidy the flat, but he still doesn’t come back. Finally, you pick up your book and curl up in the chair in Fred’s room. He is sleeping soundly and the room is peaceful. You read for a while before something catches your attention and you lower the book from your face to see Fred watching you intently. 

“Why do you still wear that?” his voice is flat and emotionless. 

“What?” You ask him, looking down at your outfit to see what he is referring to. 

“No, the ring.” He points at the simple diamond band on your left ring finger. You look at it and back up at Fred, unsure how to respond. “You really still want to marry someone who can’t even shower on his own?” He asks and his tone changes to deep bitterness. 

“Yes.” You whisper the truth. Yes, of course, you still wanted to marry him. He was still your Fred. 

“Can I see it?” He asks after a moments silence and you uncross your legs and stand up to walk over to Fred, holding your hand out for him to see. Confusion fills your thoughts- this is the first time he has mentioned a relationship with you at all. 

“You’re stupid if you think he can ever love you the way you deserve again.” Fred reaches up and gently pulls the ring off your finger before you can think to stop him. He looks at you as tears well up in your eyes. 

“Why?” Your voice cracks.

“Because you need to leave him.” He turns away from you now, so you can no longer see his face. You throw the book back in the chair where you were sitting and walk out of the room and slam the door behind you. you lean against the wall in the hallway and let yourself sink to the floor, completely overcome. You bury your face in your knees and sob. 

It wasn’t his fault, you knew it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t keep it from hurting worse than you thought words could hurt. You are so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear George come in until he is only a few feet from you. 

“What happened?” He asks, worry filling his voice. 

“Nothing,” You try to wipe the tears from your face and look up at him, but immediately wish you hadn’t when you see the look on his face. “He’s just having a bad day.” you cover it up. 

“Did he hurt you?” George squats next to you so you are closer to eye-level. 

“No… No. He took my ring.” George’s eyes flash to your now-empty hand. “And told me I was stupid to think he would love me again. He told me to leave.” You tell George. 

“What? Prat. I’ll talk-“ George stands and puts his hand on the doorknob to Fred’s room, but you stop him. 

“No, George. Leave it.” He furrows his brows at your words. “It is his to take.” You shrug your shoulders. “This doesn’t mean I’m walking away. I’m here to help. But it is his to take back. I can’t make him love me.” Your words hang heavily in the hallway and George’s eyes search your face. “Leave it.” You say again and stand up to walk into the kitchen. George hesitates for a moment before following you to help put the groceries away. He keeps eyeing you suspiciously, but you ignore his glances. 

“Wanna play a round of chess?” He suggests and you agree, knowing George is just trying to find anything to distract you. He sets up the board at the kitchen table while you make tea. The two of you play silently. After a while, you hear the bedroom door click open but you resist the urge to turn around and look. You see George’s eyes flicker to the door and his jaw tightens, but he just turns back to the game wordlessly. You hear the chair at the end of the table drag against the floor and Fred sits down, watching the chess match intently. Your eyes flicker to George again, but he acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary so you follow his lead. 

While you contemplate your next move, George stands and makes another cup of tea, which he sets in front of his twin. Before you can move your piece, Fred leans into the board and points to the one he thinks you should play next. 

“This one…” his voice is steady and more normal sounding than it has been in a while. You nod and move the one he was pointing to, which ends up being a better play than the one you were planning. 

“Thanks,” You smile at Fred and he just leans back in his chair and silently watches the rest of the game. George still wins, like always, but it was a fun distraction for a while. You are able to hold your own more now, but still he wins almost every time. When the game is over, you start to cook supper and Fred wanders wordlessly back to his room. 

Your mind races while you chop vegetables for dinner. Just this morning, Fred said you were stupid to still be there and he took your engagement ring away. But just now, he helped you in chess and sounded more normal than you have heard in weeks. Was that his way of apologizing? You couldn’t hold anything against him, not right now, but it was hard not to. 

*** 

George is downstairs, working on getting things ready to reopen, when you decide to start chicken pot pie for dinner, the twins’ favorite. You have the radio playing softly so you don’t wake up Fred and you swing gently to the music. Lost in your thoughts, you accidently bump into the stove and knock off the dish you had heating there. The hot dish clatters to the floor, hitting your foot as it falls. You inhale a quick breath as the pan sears your skin and tears a gash down your left foot as it shatters. 

“Ahh! Shit.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to focus on how to move without stepping on anything. 

“Come here,” Fred’s hand takes yours and guides you through the mess. He gently sets you up on the kitchen table and whisks his wand to clean up the mess. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake-“ You start, but he interrupts you. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” He drops to one knee and gently dabs at the blood on your foot. “I don’t-… I don’t remember any healing charms though. Where’s George?” 

“In the shop.” You say simply, surprised by Fred’s actions. He wraps the towel around your foot and goes straight to the stairs in search of his brother. They return quickly and George raises his eyebrows at you questioningly. You shrug to show your own confusion and Fred’s behavior as George bends down to look at your foot. 

“What happened?” George asks before mumbling a healing spell on your foot. 

“Nothing.” You insist, but Fred surprisingly speaks at the same time. 

“Dancing.” He says and you can’t hide the smile that plays on your lips. He blushes a little and turns away to finish cleaning the mess you left behind. 

“Thanks,” You say as George gives you another confused look. You hop off the table, foot fully healed, to finish supper. The twins sit at the table and watch you cook. Fred listens as George tells you about his newest joke idea, but you realize George is only telling it for his twin’s benefit. You can’t help but feel hopeful as the night goes on that you are beginning to see glimpses of the old Fred again. 

A week later, George was in the shop downstairs showing Fred some of the things he had been working on. You stayed upstairs, folding laundry, until you heard George yell. You dropped the towel in your hands and bolted downstairs, fear clenching your body. But when you reached the bottom step, you found Fred standing there, covered in purple powder from a trick marble that had clearly backfired on him. All you could see of his body was his eyes, lips, and bright orange hair sticking out from the top. You bite your lip, trying to hold back a giggle that threatened to erupt. 

You glance over at George, who has a small twinkle in his eye, before you bust out laughing at the scene in front of you. It was the first time you could remember finding something this funny since the battle and you can’t hold it in. You double over in laughter and even the boys have to laugh at the scene. It was so normal, so much like your old Fred. Every time you thought you regained control, you would look back at Fred’s smirk and fall into a another spout of laughter. Finally, you turn and walk back upstairs and leave the boys to clean up the purple powder. 

As you walk up the steps, you hear Fred say quietly to his brother, “I haven’t heard her laugh before.” And your stomach knots up at the thought. 

“She used to, all the time. You made her laugh.” You hear George reply and you hasten up the last few steps. While you fold the last of the laundry, you try to make a mental note of ways to make the flat more like it used to be. The healers said to take Fred back to the place he was most familiar with and the way this flat had become quiet and mournful was nothing like the way it used to be. 

That night, after dinner, you decide to teach the boys to play poker. You pull out a bag of peppermints from the top cabinet and divide them into three equal piles while you call Fred in from the other room. You explain the rules and deal the cards. 

“This isn’t fair- I don’t know what you look like when you lie.” George says after you win the first round. 

“That’s the point, George,” You laugh and shuffle the cards. “You bite your lip though.” He covers his face in mock anger and the two of you laugh. Fred offers a small smile as you deal the next round. By the end of the game, you and Fred are clearly much better at playing than George is, which makes him pout for the rest of the night. But you are glad you suggested it because the house was filled with laughs again, even if only for a few hours. 

It is George’s night to sleep with Fred and make sure he wakes to take his potions, but this is not nearly as exhausting as it was a month ago. You are in a deep sleep when Fred’s scream pulls you awake and you sprint into the room across the hall. 

“NO! NO! Please, don’t hurt her. Take me, take me instead.” He sobs and memories flash into your mind of the night he stepped in front of the forbidden curse for you. You drop to the bed against George’s protests and wrap your arms around Fred’s shaking body. 

“You did it, Freddie. You saved me. You saved me. I’m right here. You did it.” You whisper into his ear again and again. He resists your embrace at first, but not like the first time he woke up from a nightmare like this. Slowly, his body relaxes under your grip but you don’t let go of him. George sits back on the bed across the room, watching cautiously. “It’s okay, Fred. You are safe. We all are. You protected me.” You say and sway gently as you hold him. 

Eventually, he collapses back against the bed, still breathing heavily but no longer crying. You stand to leave but his hand slips into yours and you sit back down where you were. You hold his hand and run your fingers through his hair until he falls back asleep. You turn to George, who is laying back on the bed now, but clearly not trying to sleep. 

“That’s what he said when… when he got hurt.” You whisper and George turns his head to you. He stares at you for a long time before replying. 

“Did you hear what he said today?” He asks and you nod, remembering the conversation on the stairs. “That’s why you wanted to play a game?” George suggests, but he already knows the answer.

“The doctor said to bring him back to a place that is familiar, and the flat has just been so… quiet. Not like it was before. I just thought…” You trail off, realizing it probably wouldn’t work. 

“I think you’re right. We will both make more of an effort.” He smiles and rolls back over to face the ceiling. You stay for a few more minutes before you untangle your hand from Fred’s and stand up. 

“Goodnight, George.” You whisper and walk back to your room. You sit on the edge of the bed, trying to calm yourself back down. Each time any of you had a nightmare, it took you a long time to fall back to sleep. Fred’s were the worst, he usually woke up to his own screams. You rarely heard George, but sometimes you would wake up to him mumbling or twitching in the night and have to wake him. But your nightmares were silent. They paralyzed you and you woke up crying and covered in sweat. Only once had George had to wake you because you were loud enough for him to hear. The three of you were working through trauma you wondered if you could ever fully get past. 

The next day, you went to your parent’s house to borrow an old tv. They were glad to see you, but knew nothing of the battle you had been through. They were muggles, and you chose to keep them from that side of your life for their own protection. You got the T.V. and a stack of movies and returned to the flat. 

“What is that?!” George questioned as soon as you walked into the shop. You couldn’t see him over the heavy load in your arms, but you knew he must be wearing a mocking expression. 

“A t.v. Help me.” You say and he helps you get the large box upstairs. 

“What’s it do?” he asks as you set it in the living room floor. 

“You watch movies on it. We are having a movie night.” You smile like it is the best idea you’ve ever had, but George still looks skeptical. “I invited Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione. You and Fred are obviously free to join, but you don’t have to. But I think it will be fun.” You say again and go to the kitchen to make a few snacks for the evening. 

“You think it’s a good idea? People over?” George follows you to the kitchen. 

“I do. I got a funny movie, so it will be light. And it’s just your siblings.” You turn to look at him so he can see you are taking his side seriously. 

“And Harry AND Hermione.” He says insistently. 

“I couldn’t invite Gin and Ron without them. Plus, Fred has known them all for years, so it isn’t anyone new. George, he doesn’t have to come in here if he doesn’t want to.” You take a deep breath as George nods his head, finally agreeing with you. The small group arrives later, and you greet them all with a smile. 

“Welcome!” You say as they enter the flat hesitantly. “Popcorn is on the table. And some candy. Help yourself then come help me pick out a movie!” Harry and Ron pick out one of your childhood favorites and everyone eases into your old comfortable conversation. You start the movie and everyone is laughing. It is a while before you hear the bedroom door click open and Fred walks out quietly. You are sitting in the floor, but you scoot over to make room between you and George and Fred sits down. You move the popcorn to where he can reach it too, but try not to make a big deal of the night even though it makes your stomach fill with butterflies. George shoots you a triumphant look and you smile, grateful for the evening spent with the people you love. 

Movie nights become the new normal in the flat, but it is usually just the three of you. It is a good way to pass the evenings together without anyone feeling like they have to talk. You buy more muggle games to teach the boys and they teach you wizarding games they learned as children and slowly the three of you ease back into a closer resemblance of what life was like before the battle. George opens the shop back up. You help him some days, but Fred always seems to steer clear of downstairs when there is a chance of customers. 

One day a month later, you are in the kitchen with the muggle radio turned up loud. Fred walks in quietly and you grab the broom and pretend it is a microphone. You sing a few notes and he laughs before his smile is quickly replaced with a quizzical look. 

“Can… Can I ask you a question?” He asks hesitantly and you set the broom down

“Sure,” You say and reach over to turn the music down. 

“What happened to your ring?” His eyes flicker to your bare left hand and your stomach flips with nervousness about how to answer him. 

“Ummm… well. You took it back.” you answer honestly. 

“I did?” Fred’s eyes furrow in confusion and you sit at the table. “Why?” He adds.

“I… I don’t know. It was just a rough day.” You answer vaguely, not really wanting to remember that day. 

“Before the….?” He trails off, but his eyes search your face earnestly. 

“No, after. After you got home.” You answer and look away. 

“Oh.” He says simply and walks back to his room, closing the door behind him. You sit there for a few more minutes before you walk downstairs to the shop. It is empty, so you sit on your regular spot on the counter to talk to George. 

“Fred just asked why I don’t wear my ring anymore” You say, swinging your feet carelessly. 

“What? What did you tell him.” George stops and turns his attention to you. 

“The truth.” You say and his eyes widen a little. “Well, a kinder version of the truth.” You add. 

“What did he say?” 

“Nothing. Just walked away and closed the door.” You sit there for a few more minutes. “Should I have lied?” You ask George. 

“No. I wouldn’t have.” He says simply and turns to arrange a display as the bell above the door goes off. You stay in the shop until closing, not wishing to be upstairs alone with Fred right now. That night, you toss and turn for hours before you finally get up and decide to watch a movie until you can fall asleep. You curl up on the couch and turn the volume on low. You hear the bedroom door click and are surprised to see Fred walking over to you. You sit up to make room for him as he joins you. 

“What is this?” He asks softly.

“Ever After.” You reply and he stays silent. You accidently fall asleep because when you wake up, your head is resting on Fred’s shoulder. 

“Sorry.” You mumble and sit up. He reaches over to pick up a blanket. 

“It’s fine. Stay.” He says and you lean back over and close your eyes as he throws the blankets over your legs. You almost don’t want to fall asleep because you have craved this so much. Craved moments alone with him, sleeping in his lap. Quickly, though, you fall back asleep until the end credits come on. 

“You want to go to bed?” Fred asks when he sees your eyes open. 

“I guess.” You say, standing up. Fred turns off the T.V. and the two of you walk back down the hall. 

“Goodnight, (y\n).” He whispers as you walk into one room and he walks into the other. You fall back asleep quickly with Fred’s familiar scent still on the blanket. 

“Heard you had a movie night last night…” George teases you the next morning while the two of you open the shop. 

“WhatDidHeSay?” You blurt out the words and spin around to face George before you can stop yourself. He raises his eyebrows, mocking you, and you feel a blush creep up on your face as you realize how teenager that sounded. 

“Easy there.” He laughs. “Nothing, just that you fell asleep.” You aren’t quite sure how to process this. You wanted Fred to love you again more than anything, but you didn’t want him to feel pressured into anything either. 

“Do… George, do you think I should leave?” You ask hesitantly. “I mean, he took the ring back and I was so focused on making him better that I didn’t even think about him not wanting me here. Maybe this is the… the new Fred. Without me.” The realization hits you like a train and you look across the store to where George stands frozen. 

“No.” he says with a simple shrug. 

“Why not?” You ask, desperate for anything to cling to. 

“Because he blushed like you just did when he told me. Maybe we won’t ever get the old Fred back, but we have Freddie. And I think he wants you here, even if he doesn’t know it yet.” George stares at you while you think this through. A small smile plays at your lips and he walks to the storeroom while you unlock the door. Was he right? Did Fred want you here? You barely dared hope this was true. 

Fred was slowly stepping back into his old life. Some days, he would work in the shop’s workroom all day, looking through George’s latest ideas and fine-tuning the things that were not working. Other days, he barely got out of bed and you could tell he was fighting an invisible battle. Life was more predictable now, but it still was not the life you expected to have by this time. 

One morning, you woke up early but laid in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. Today was your birthday. But more than that, it had been exactly one year since Fred proposed to you. And here you were, waking up feeling more alone than ever before. You went downstairs later than normal to help George in the shop. Fred was working silently in the office in the back, designing a new display. 

“What’s wrong?” George whispers to you after you noted silence all morning. 

“Nothing.” You say, not looking at him. 

“Something is up.” He insists, still talking quietly so Fred doesn’t hear. 

“Just didn’t sleep well,” You lie and force a smile, hoping George will leave you alone. He does, for a few more hours, until he starts closing the shop. You try to brush off the sinking feeling you have had all day, but it is hard. Finally, you go upstairs to change and grab your coat. 

“I’m going to my parents for supper, I’ll be back late.” You mumble as you brush past George and leave the shop quickly without waiting for his reply. You know it isn’t fair to punish him for not remembering something small like your birthday, but that is not what is really bothering you. You just can’t look at Fred today, of all days. Normally, he spent the whole day celebrating you. One year, he brought you a gift each hour for your birthday. Most of the gifts were single pieces of candy or a kiss, but it was the effort that made you fall in love with him. 

Last year was the best one yet. He surprised you at Hogwarts during your seventh year and McGonnagall let him stay at the school for supper. You spent the whole afternoon together and ended the evening with him getting down on one knee and asking you to marry him. 

You brush a single tear away as you walk down Diagon Alley and through the Leaky Cauldron. You hail a cab to give yourself time to pull yourself together before you get to your parents for a birthday dinner. The cab pulls to a halt and you pay the driver before slapping on a smile and walking up to your childhood front door. You had to admit, the evening was lovely even though the day had been long. Your mother made your favorite meal and you got to visit with them, even though you had to make up a lie for Fred’s noted absence. 

You left with a full heart and apparated back to The Leaky Cauldron. You walk back to the shop and unlock the door quietly. You walk through the quiet shop and upstairs. When you push open the door, Fred and George are standing at the kitchen table, which holds a chocolate cake with candles on top. You turn to see Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry standing under a sparking ‘Happy Birthday’ banner and they all cheer when they see you. Your hand flies to cover your open mouth and tears spring into your eyes. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, (Y\N)!” They all yell at the same time and you can’t help but laugh at their happiness. Fred crosses the small kitchen and wraps his arm around his shoulders. 

“You didn’t think I could forget today, do you?” He whispers in your ear and you can’t stop the tears from flowing now. You smile up at him and he steps away so you can blow out the candles on the cake. The group stays late into the night, playing exploding snaps. Every time you look up, Fred is looking at you, but you try to not catch his eye. 

“Thanks, for last night.” You tell George the next morning as you jump on to your familiar spot on the shop counter. 

“It was all Freddie,” He smiles at you and lays down the paper he was reading. “I didn’t know it was your birthday. You should have said something.” 

“It wasn’t really a big deal.” You say, but it was. It was huge to you that Fred remembered and wanted to celebrate. This seemed to be the catalyst that opened him up again. He started being more intentional in his conversations with you and George and he became more involved in running the shop with his brother. You watched Fred come alive again. It was slow- some days were still hard and some nights you still work up to Fred’s screaming nightmares. 

You woke up to one of these nightmares one night, except it was your own sobs that pulled you awake. You sat up in bed, trying to take a few deep breaths and steady yourself when you heard a small knock on the door. 

“Come in,” You called out, thinking it was George still awake. Instead, Fred walked into the room and sat on the side of your bed. He wrapped his arms around you the same way you had calmed him before and you crumbled into his embrace. Fred just stroked your hair while you calmed down. Fred settled back against the bedframe and held you until you fell back asleep. When you woke up, you were more comfortable than you could remember being in a long time. It took a moment for you to realize it was because you were still asleep on Fred’s shoulder, wrapped up in his steady arms. He was asleep too, so you didn’t move and instead just fell back asleep. 

The next time you woke up, Fred was stirring underneath you. You craned your neck up at him to see his face and he smiled down at you, his cheeks blushing deep red. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked you. 

“Great. Thanks for…” You trail off, not really sure what this even was. He came in to check on you and just didn’t leave. He chuckles at your loss for words and the two of you walk into the kitchen in search of tea. George is already up and raises his eyes questioningly as you, but you avoid his gaze and ignore his unspoken question. That night, before you go to sleep, you hear the silent, familiar knock on your door again and you raise up on one elbow as Fred eases back into the room. 

“Can… Can I?” He motions vaguely to the bed. You nod and pull the covers back, making room for him. Your thoughts are racing at this, but they calm almost as soon as Fred lays down next to you and wraps his arms around you. You take a deep breath, breathing in his scent, and lace your fingers through his. You fall asleep quickly, finally restful with Fred so close to you. This quickly became the normal routine for the two of you and slowly you grew back close to each other. 

One evening, as you and Fred ate dinner alone, he pulls out a familiar red box and sets it on the table. Without even opening it, you know it is the ring that he took back so many months ago. Your eyes met his in a silent question. 

“I never should have taken this away. I’m sorry. But I’m giving it back now, and it is up to you if you wear it or not.” He says simply. “I love you so much.” He adds. You reach out and open the box to reveal the familiar ring. You slip it on your finger and Fred stands and comes to your side. 

“I love you,” You whisper through tears and he wraps you in his familiar embrace.


End file.
